


Ready, Dean?

by Llamadramaphan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crack, Dean is scared of a video game, Dean's 18, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Sam gets angry at the end, Sam pranks him, Sam's 14, Sexual Tension, Tension, Underage - Freeform, Weecest, Worship, jealous!Dean, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:27:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5604919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llamadramaphan/pseuds/Llamadramaphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets home to find his brother play a video game with a friend - and his curiosity forces him to check it out himself.<br/>Just that, as it turns out, Dean Winchester can, in fact be scared of horror games- and smash the laptop in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready, Dean?

**Author's Note:**

> So I kinda had the idea of Dean playing Sonic.exe and getting so scared/frustrated that he'd smash the laptop he's playing on - it kinda turned into something else, and actually got kinda deep at the end but whatever. 
> 
> (if anyone's confused as to why the game knew Dean's name - Sammy had typed in his name when he had started the game, naming his character after his big brother. What a coincidence, huh?)

Dean huffed as he entered their rented house, which still seemed a little too big and empty for his taste. And their savings. But now that John had finally agreed on getting something more fancy than a small house with busted windows and cracked floor tiles in the bathroom, Dean wasn’t gonna be the one to argue.

Especially since now, with the relatively clean walls and working lamps, Sammy seemed to actually enjoy bringing his new friends that he had made since they’d been staying in this sleepy little town somewhere in Kentucky, over. He even enjoyed it so much that almost every time Dean came home from working at a local mechanics’ place, there were other kids populating their living room with laughter and inappropriate jokes that Dean would have found funny, hadn’t he been more content with their old routine than this new, unfamiliar one.

The new one where Sam wasn’t waiting for him with some DVD he had rented from a store, waving the empty case around with the TV already on and playing as Dean shucked his shoes off, along with his jacket.

The unfamiliar one where Sam didn’t wait for him to prepare them something to eat, the one where Sam already had someone else to occupy himself with, someone his age. Dean groaned, aware of how selfish he was being – but when he heard them again, childish laughter and giggles from the room Sam was sleeping in, he couldn’t help but feel at least a tiny bit of rage bubble up within him, that slowly faded the closer he got to said room. Sammy was having fun – Sammy was having fun with friends. Not that the kid had ever been exactly unsocial – just that in comparison to Dean who gathered a group of admirers around himself everywhere they went, he was like a little social butterfly, not really interested in speaking to others.

But now that he was 14 that finally seemed to have changed.

Yeah.   
‘Finally’

“Hey.”

Dean ripped the door open without giving too much thought to what could be behind it – and thank god Sam was clever enough to not watch porn with his friends or something, since the situation would have turned out quite awkward then (he already did that in the first hours after school, long before Dean was expected to arrive) and so all Dean saw when scanning the room the way every hunter was trained to do when exposed to ‘new’ territory, was Sammy and his friend Brian, both crowded in front of a laptop – Brian’s, Dean supposed.

“Hi, Dean.”

Sam replied, the cheerful glee not missing from his tone as he waved at Dean half-heartedly, before zeroing his eyes in on the laptop again, slapping Brian’s arm as he apparently noticed something on screen. Dean couldn’t see said thing because of the way the boys were sitting but he guessed they were watching a horror movie or something, since Brian flinched at Sam’s touch, eyes wide and scared as he followed the happenings of supposed film.

“F-fuck oh- Hey dean! Shit-“

Dean raised one brow, obviously amused as he watched the kid type something – that’s also when he noticed that Sam wasn’t going to just explain what was going on.

“So, watcha up to?”

Dean hated how old he sounded when saying that, like some kind of parent looking after their kid at a sleepover but Sam didn’t seem to care much – neither did Brian, who was still looking at the screen as if the thing displayed on it was going to kill him every second now. Sam chuckled. “Playin’ somethin’…c’mere.” Dean obeyed, curious, as he strutted towards the two, hands buried in his pockets while he leaned over, eyeing the laptop suspiciously. Just in time for the screen to flicker, loud music suddenly blaring from the speakers and the Winchester brothers exchanged smug looks as Brian screeched, almost falling off the bed they were sitting on in the process of getting distance between himself and the laptop.

“Fucking hell, I’m never gonna play that ever again!”

At this point, Sam and Dean were both puzzled from shared laughter, ignoring the pout coming from Brian as the game apparently restarted, leading Dean to the realisation that Brian had just gotten his and Sammy’s Game-self killed.

“The hell’s this?”

He asked, amusement prominent in his voice as their laughter had died down and Sam was quick to explain. “Oh, ‘s just a game. You wouldn’t like it.” Dean raised an eyebrow, arms naturally crossing themselves over his chest. The Winchesters had the urge to challenge themselves with everyone and everything they saw imprinted on themselves from the freaking day they were born (along with a thing for breaking the law and a familiar taste in classic rock) and so it wasn’t all that unusual for Dean to immediately have a tempting tone in his words as he replied.

“Oh really? S that so?”

What was more unusual was that Sam just nodded, instead of letting the conversation carry on and turn into a nice wrestle session a la Winchester, attention shifting back to Brian with a sly grin.

“We can stop playing now. Your dad said he’d pick ya up around 8 anyway.”

And that was it.

Dean almost couldn’t help but show his obvious confusion at the situation as the boys both got up from the bed, Sam grinning up at Dean (the day Sammy grew taller than his older brother, Dean was sure of throwing a temper tantrum) as they left the room.

“Bye Dean.”

“Bye Brian.”

What.   
The hell.

Dean huffed out a breath he didn’t know he had been angrily holding, staring after the boys as he heard them converse in the living room. Fucking sons of bitches. He was already ready to just walk back to his own room and accept Sam’s victory by putting salt in his cereal the next morning, but instead, he noticed that the laptop was still on Sam’s bed. Just sitting there. The game still playing. Dean wouldn’t – he was 18 god damnit, he wouldn’t let himself be degraded to playing some stupid video game on some stupid laptop made for stupid – **Restart Game?**

“Oh fuck it.”

With a growl, Dean clicked the button, rolling his eyes at the ‘dun dun dun’ of the background music. Yep. This was just gonna be another ‘horror’ game that teenagers played with their girlfriends to get them to straddle their laps in fear or something, nothing scary at all.

**Hello, Dean**

What. Dean squinted at the screen, his mouse hovering over the words written in white Calibri over an almost entirely black background.

Nope.

That was his name.

**Ready to play again, Dean?**

Okay this was just dumb.

Dean bit his lip absently, trying to figure out where to turn the laptop off so he could really leave this damn room in peace – damn him for being such a fucking klutz when it came to electronics. A broken radio? A spitting sink? A car? No problem. But a fucking phone or computer – Dean was helpless. Not that he’d admit that though. Never. His eyes cast over the laptop again, noticing nothing with ‘power off’ written on it.

Damn him.

 

He clicked onto the **YES** button right underneath the text and the music set in again – this time actually causing Dean to seize up for a moment, embarrassed about it only mere seconds later. That was the wind. Sam had left the window open and now the breeze had caused Dean to shiver.

Only. Plausible. Explanation.

**Ready, Dean?**

“God just get on with it…” He murmured through gritted teeth, clicking the **YES** option once again – then there was silence for a while, silence making Dean’s ears hurt as he waited, waited for a blow, another option written in shitty white text – what came next was him – or rather his character – standing in an empty room, from the perspective most shooting games had, at least to Dean’s knowledge. He had never actually enjoyed those games (“What’s the fun in shooting up a bunch of fake people when ya have real life monsters for that?”) but he had seen some of his ‘friends’ play them while he stayed over at their house. The screen moved. No, wait, the character did. A little window popped up, telling Dean to walk using the WASD keyboards and he gently put his fingers on them, annoyed by how they were too small for him to not accidentally touch others in the process. He did manage to move a few metres though, and as the character made its way down an imaginary hallway with creepy pictures hung up on the walls on each side, Dean felt a certain knot form in his stomach, that was mostly triggered by the finale of a hunt, when Dad told him to stay behind him or in the car, when the monster was getting close just as the possibility of death.

“Get yourself together, Winchester…”

Dean whispered to himself, annoyed by his own stupidity as he made his way down further, sometimes mildly frightened by sudden movements in the corner or sounds like the echo of footsteps or the flickering of a lightbulb – it didn’t take long for Dean to figure just how much he hated this – and that Brian was a wimp yeah, but that his horror war actually at least a little bit understandable. And there it was again – footsteps behind him. And then-

**D E A N**

It was a whisper if anything but it was enough for Dean to press so hard down on the W key, he was sure it’d be damaged for ever, not that he could bring himself to care at that point. Why did that thing know his name? Was it- could it be-

**D E A N**

“F-fuck…”

Possessed? Was that it? Was the thing possessed and Dean actually in greater danger than he could imagine? And Sammy too? He knew that you could name your player in most games – but this one hadn’t had a window to type that in so…so how did it know?

Dean’s brain worked raggedly as he just kept pressing his finger down hard enough for it to hurt, squinting at the screen as the footsteps grew louder and louder, faster and faster behind him, until Dean was sure that if he’d turn around right now, there’d be a monster standing right behind him, right there next to Sammy’s bed. He didn’t dare to turn around.

**D E A N**

“Oh fuck this shit!”

That’s when Dean’s fist surged up.

And when the screen dented inwards.

Well.

At least the voice stopped.

Along with the whole laptop itself.

“Oh shit shit shit…”

This was Brian’s laptop.   
This was Sammy’s friend’s laptop.   
And he had fucking broken it.

Dean contemplated just leaving and letting Sam find it himself, say that he had no idea what happened later – but that’s when Dean reminded himself of how much he hated lying to Sam and how – let’s be honest – Sammy was way too smart to fall for something like a laptop screen suddenly breaking by itself when Dean was the only other person in the house. Fucking hell. As if on cue, that was when something moved in the doorway and Dean made an attempt to hide the laptop, instinctively lunging forwards but only causing the thing to fall off the bed and –

“DEAN!”

Shit.

He tried saving it, but that’s when the laptop had already connected with the floor, falling onto its edge, keyboard coming off. Silence.

“Holy shit.”

“Holy Shit I- I’m so sorry Sammy I-“

Sam just kept staring at the laptop, then at Dean, back to the laptop, until his eyes lingered on his big brother, with an expression of ‘Are you fucking serious’. Sadly, Dean was.

“You fucking…I leave you alone with it for one minute and you fucking smash it?!”

Dean attempted to apologize again, when he noticed Sam shaking his head, lips tugged up slightly. Was this his bitter laugh or – yep. The bitter laugh.

“You fucking…you fucking JERK!”

Even though that was obviously not one of the harder insults, it still hit Dean and he didn’t even think about replying with the usual ‘bitch’ as he slowly got up from the bed, somehow trying to figure out how in the hell he’d fix this. And with this he meant the way Sam was looking at him, ready to fucking murder. John really had done a good job of turning Sammy – the scrawny little 10 year old that wouldn’t leave Dean’s side and sleep in the same bed with him willingly, blissed out as if it was the best thing in the whole world to be pressed up against a sweaty, pubescent 14 year old boy – into someone even Dean ushered away from slightly. Well it hadn’t only been John – it was their way of living as a whole that made a short-for-his-age 14 year old appear like some kind of animal with the urge to rip someone’s throat out. Dean’s, preferably.

“I mean it Sammy I- I didn’t want to – it just happened on accident and-“

“God why you always gotta ruin everything?!”

Ouch.

That hurt.

“Sammy I- it wasn’t my fault, ok? You came in and I- I just accidentally pushed it off man I-“ He decided to not tell Sammy about how he had actually punched the screen before letting the laptop fall and crack on the floor, seeing as how this really had not been entirely his fault – and Sam was diplomatic enough to see that. At least when he wasn’t angry. And that – oh that he was.

“Fuck – Fuck you man! Fuck. You!”

Sam surged forward, catching Dean off guard as he felt a hand twist into his flannel, shoving him. Sam wasn’t strong. Well, sure he was – stronger than any other 14 year old, Dean was sure – but never stronger than the 18 year old Dean Winchester who had been trained to fight since the age of 12. Just that sometimes, Dean forgot that fighting – this way of living – was literally everything Sam knew. He had never experienced warmth. The kind of motherly love Dean had experienced, even if just for four years. He had grown up in that time span to be a kind boy, whereas Sam….Sam had grown up to be a killer machine. Dean gulped as he realized this, chest burning as he got behind all of this – as he noticed just what that meant. Sam grew up thinking he’d have to be strong – and even though Dean had done his best to give him all the love he could, it hadn’t been enough. Resulting into a 14 year old pounding at his brother for ruining a laptop.

(Dean didn’t realise in that moment how he was over reacting – he didn’t remember how kind Sam was, how nice and genuine because in that moment all he saw was fury in the boy’s colour-changing eyes, fury and deeply settled anger)

Dean couldn’t bring himself to fight back. He had wrestled with Sammy countless times, even hurt him accidentally more often than he’d like to admit – but this wasn’t playful. And so he just let Sam shove him, until he was lined up with the wall, his head banging back onto his as Sam had a fist up in the air, probably directed at Dean’s jaw…before he went limb. It was weird, mesmerizing to watch as all the fury slowly left the younger Winchester, leaving him with confused and big dog eyes, staring up at Dean as if he was clueless as to what he had just done himself. Which was shove his big brother against a wall, with zero to none space left between them. “Sammy I’m…” It was as if all air left his lungs as their eyes met, Sam craning his neck a bit to be on the same level as his older brother, his lips huffing air onto Dean’s chin as moments passed, filled with unsureness and confusion. And silent apologies.

“I’m…I’m gonna buy the kid a new laptop I-“

“He actually gave it to me. ‘S was a present. His parents are rich, ‘t was his old one…”

Ouch.

Dean visibly flinched as he processed what that meant.

Sam had been wanting a laptop since forever, always moaning about wanting one, sticking his middle finger up to Dean when the older brother would tease that Sammy would just want to look at porn. Damn him. No, fuck him. Fuck him for being such an asshole and ruining Sammy’s present before he even got to enjoy it. Fuck him.

“I- then I’m gonna buy you a new one! Or…or we’re gonna get it repaired somehow I can find someone to…to do that…”

Dean lowered his chin – he had actually just wanted to look Sammy in the eye better but now their lips were almost aligning and fuck-

“If I forgive you just – just do this one thing for me okay? Just this one…”

Sam’s voice was not more than a whisper, an airless breath against Dean’s partially opened mouth, tongue darting out to lick over his lips unintentionally. Sam followed the motion….

“Anything ya want Sammy…anythin’…” And Sam took what he wanted. He leaned forward, leaving almost no time for Dean to process what was happening, let alone react as Sam’s mouth smashed against his, but he was quick to notice that this was an aggressive kiss, very aggressive.

And Dean was okay with it.

Which was sick, sure it was. But now it just all seemed to make sense, the way Sam was licking into his mouth like some kind of fucking pro, the way their lips rolled against one another, Dean finally felt as if something in his life was going right. Like this was everything that he had ever needed. Not the keys to the Impala Dad had given him for his 18th birthday, not the leather jacket or the boots he had wished for and finally gotten for himself – this.

This was all he ever needed.

Sam’s mouth on his, Sam with him. Sam alone with him. No annoying Brian or Tina or whatever they were all called, no Dad who would order them around and lead Sammy to be tense all day, no random chick that would give Dean a quick blowjob in the janitors’ closet – just Sammy.

Sammy, safe in his arms.   
Sammy, safe and protected.   
Sammy.  
Just Sammy.

And when they parted, it felt like everything was taken from him again. Like he was being stripped of everything that really mattered in his life – which narrowed down to simply Sam, standing there with this sudden distance between them, seemingly unsure of what to do next, his big brain working on finding some kind of resolution to this.

But in the end, Dean found it.

He found it by pulling Sammy up for another kiss, this one soft and lingering, everything they had both ever wanted and more, the laptop forgotten somewhere in the background, just like the prior anger and frustration from Sam’s side – it was like the world had been muted. Like everything was grey except for the brothers, holding each other.

They were both more than okay with that.


End file.
